


my gods look like you (tell me why it’s wrong)

by shield_maiden



Series: Harringrove [8]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Jealous!Billy, Jealous!Steve, M/M, Weed, billy is such a hypocrite, nancy and Jonathan are supportive angels, no beta we die like men, underaged drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shield_maiden/pseuds/shield_maiden
Summary: It would be easier, if there wasn’t this hastily built barrier of distance between them. Or if he hadn’t fucking ruined everything by crying like a baby just because Billy had touched him without malice.If Billy can ignore him and mess around with Stacy, why can’t he do the same?





	my gods look like you (tell me why it’s wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow congratulations me for finally getting my shit together enough for this next part 😂 enjoy & let me know what you think in the comments! & follow me on tumblr @crimson—petrichor
> 
> Title is once again from 1950 by King Princess

Steve’s arm is itching beneath the neat white rectangle of gauze, a good sign he knows. It means that the skin is slowly knitting itself back together, undoing the damage he’s done, even if it sets his teeth on edge. So he’s trying not to think about it.

However, the only alternative thoughts his fucked up brain seems to be willing to supply is a stunningly wide variety all centred around one Billy Hargrove. Which is worse. So much worse. He feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin.

And that’s kind of how he ends up with Nancy and Jonathan, the three of them passing a joint back and forth in the crisp fall air by the pool, back lit by the cool white light spilling from the glass doors inside. The three of them are sitting on the disused sun lounges, Nancy and Jonathan on one, and Steve on the other, facing them. (He tries really hard to ignore the way Jonathan’s hand rests on top of Nancy’s between them. He mostly manages, and it’s good. It’s fine.) A few passes later and they’re all suitably stoned; Steve feels both freer and more present the he’s felt in a while - since he was on his knees in the Camaro with Billy’s hand tangled in his hair and his dick in his mouth. 

He must zone out for a bit, lost in the high - and maybe in the damn thoughts of Billy that he just can’t shake - because the next thing he knows, Nancy is languidly waving her hand in front of his face. 

“Where’d you go?” She asks, leaning into Jonathan’s side comfortably, her gaze soft but concerned. Someone had clearly gone back inside while he’d been in his own head, because there’s a bottle of his dad’s whiskey sitting on the ground between the two sun lounges. Steve reaches for it and brings it to his lips, taking a few swallows. He remembers Billy, laying sprawled on the grass in the darkness of late night-early morning suburbia, clutching his own paper wrapped bottle, and his heart twinges pathetically in his chest.

When he eventually sobers up, he’ll hate himself even more. But in the moment it’s like he’s missing that vital instinct to keep his secrets close to his chest where they belong, and maybe it’s the weed and the fact that he feels some semblance of safety here with them both, or maybe he’s just so tired of carrying it all himself. But it all pours out of him at once, like a floodgate opening, and once it starts he can’t seem to stop. He tells them everything, the nightmares, the depression - they’d noticed that, he knows -, and Billy. 

By the time he stops talking, the sky above them is sprinkled with faint stars and Nancy is gaping at him, wide eyed, and Steve briefly feels amused that this is what leaves her speechless. Not terrifying inter-dimensional monsters, but that her ex-boyfriend is -was- fucking Billy Hargrove as a weird way to deal with his emotional baggage. 

Jonathan on the other hand is looking at him quizzically, head tilted to one side, and Steve can almost see his stoned mind processing the information before he simply nods and accepts it for what it is. Steve could almost kiss him for it, if that wouldn’t be exceptionally weird.

“Nance, close your mouth.” He says, reaching for the bottle of whiskey where Jonathan is holding it loosely in his fingers. He takes another swig as Nancy finally shuts her mouth, and passes her the bottle, which she takes eagerly and drinks.

“What?” She says when she sees the look on his face, grimacing at the burn. “You just told me you’re involved with Billy Hargrove. I need alcohol to cope with that revelation.” 

She smiles then, and he can’t help smiling too and just like that things regain some sense of normalcy, just for a little while. Steve knows she’ll worry about him, and probably have dozens of questions for him later, but they have a bonfire to get to.

————————————————————————  
They walk through the woods together, laughing, the beams of their flashlights waving erratically. Nancy stumbles on a tree root, and Jonathan catches her before she falls but sends them both veering into Steve, and he barely manages to stay upright with the combined weight of them leaning against him as they giggle.   
He can see the orange glow ahead through the trees, and he wonders if Billy is there already, or if he was going to come at all. Honestly, Steve has no plan as far as what he wants to say to the other boy, or how he’s going to get him alone to do it, and the realisation tied a knot of anxiety into the pit of his stomach. He probably should have thought about that. Fuck.

But still, there’s an undercurrent of excitement, and he finds himself eager to get there, to see Billy with his own eyes (he can already picture him, shirt half unbuttoned under his denim jacket, those ridiculously tight jeans, and that dumb cocky smile), and he keeps walking, letting Jonathan and Nancy catch up as he heads towards the smell of wood smoke. 

He pushes through the crowd on the outskirts, fist bumping a handful of sophomores from the basketball team who haven’t quite gotten the memo that being friendly to him these days is a form of social suicide. But it almost makes him feel like his old self again, like he’s normal. 

He stops so abruptly when he sees Billy near the fire that Nancy and Jonathan was straight into him from behind, and he apologises even as he feels a flush rise on his cheeks as they edge around him into the clearing.

Billy looks like a fucking god, all chiseled abs and blonde hair in the warm glow of the fire. Steve has to suppress a pleased shudder at the memory of licking his way down the other boy’s stomach. 

Billy is looking at him, and Steve swears that the rest of the party falls away as he watches the complex shift of emotions on Billy’s face from across the bonfire.

Nancy is pressing a solo cup into his hand and he blinks in surprise, he hadn’t even noticed she’d gone for drinks, he’d been so captivated by Billy. She smirks at him knowingly, and he takes a deep drink to hide his embarrassment, wincing at the burn of tequila. He’s beginning to suspect she might never let him live this down. He can still feel Billy’s gaze on him, and it’s thrilling but dangerous.

————————————  
He still has no idea what he wants to say to Billy, but it’s shaping up to be a moot point, the blonde ignoring him anyway, barely glancing at him as he passes them on his way to the keg. 

Part of Steve wants to throw himself at Billy, slip his hands under his shirt. He craves the feeling of warm, hard muscles under his fingers. Instead he grips his solo cup a little tighter and hates himself for being such a fucking coward.

It would be easier, if there wasn’t this hastily built barrier of distance between them. Or if he hadn’t fucking ruined everything by crying like a baby just because Billy had touched him without malice.

——————————————  
In the end he takes the cowards way out, gets drunker, and ends up making out with Jessica Smith against a tree. The taste of her cherry lipgloss is distracting, alien, but her blonde hair and blue eyes are close enough.

She’s grinding against his thigh as he sucks a hickey into the side of her neck, fighting a grimace at the overly sweet floral perfume she’s wearing. It feels wrong, she’s too light, too small. But she’s here and she’s willing, and he can’t stand watching Billy with Stacy anymore.

Besides, if Billy can ignore him and mess around with Stacy, why can’t he do the same?

Distantly he hears what might be a twig snapping, but his pulse is thundering in his ears along with the breathy moans Jessica is making, so he’s not entirely sure. But he’s honestly drunk, horny, and touch starved enough that he doesn’t care if someone is watching. 

Then he feels a hand fisting into the back of his jacket and he’s being pulled away from Jessica, caught in a strong grip that won’t let go no matter how much he struggles. It’s not until the faceless attacker speaks that he realises it’s Billy, his dick twitching interestedly in his jeans at the sound of his voice even as he feels white hot anger burn through him like a lit fuse. He watches Jessica walk past him, unsteady on her feet, she won’t meet his gaze, and is instead glaring daggers behind him, at Billy.

The hand clutching the collar of his jacket lets go and he wastes no time in swinging a punch. But he’s drunk and his coordination is sloppy, and he just catches Billy’s cheekbone with a knuckle. It’s less of a punch and more of a graze really, and Billy smiles, it’s sick and twisted and full of anger and Steve thinks he might eat him alive. He was just trying to forget for one night about his shitty life, his nightmares, how broken he is, and this fucking asshole had to show up and be a fucking asshole and ruin it. 

It’s not fucking fair.

He throws another punch, but Billy side steps him easily, and the momentum sends him crashing into a tree trunk. The impact knocks the wind out of him and irritates the cut on his arm as he raises it to catch himself, fingers scrabbling against the rough bark. He turns back to face Billy, once he’s sure he’s got his balance again, still bent over and breathing hard, trying to get air back into his lungs. 

Then Billy is stalking forwards, crowding into his personal space, forcing him to straighten until his back is against the tree. 

He should push back, make Billy move away. 

But he is drunk, horny, and filled with stupid bravado. 

So he kisses Billy instead. 

The other boy stills against him, and Steve can’t help but feel that he’s just made a huge mistake.


End file.
